Persuasion. Brenda Joyce

slowly smiled, and his dark eyes smoldered. Suddenly he brushed some hair from her face, and his fingertips fluttered over her jaw and cheek. Desire fisted and Amelia froze.

      Very seductively, he said, “I need you, Amelia. I have always needed you.”

      For one more moment, she could not move. The urge to go into his arms was overwhelming. Simon needed her. She believed that.

      “And somehow,” he said, slowly reaching for her, “I think that you need me, too.” His hand closed over her wrist.

      In another moment, if she did not defy him, he would pull her into his embrace! He was poised to do so—and he was watching her so carefully. Amelia braced against him but did not move away. There was no denying the wild attraction that she still felt for him.

      But it didn’t matter. She must never allow him any liberties again! Still, the panic she had felt earlier was far less intense now.

      “Isn’t that why you are here? To comfort me?” He leaned closer, still holding her arm.

      Amelia felt as if she were in a whirlwind of mixed emotions—confusion, fear, panic, but also a fierce, complicated desire.

      “Please let me go,” she whispered, and tears arose. She wasn’t sure what they signified.

      He started, and released her.

      She managed, “I am here to help if I can, but not in the way that you suggest.”

      He shook his head. “I did not think so.” Then he walked past her to the sofa and collapsed upon it.

      Amelia realized she was trembling, taut with tension and desire. She closed her eyes, seeking some small degree of composure.

      And then she took a breath and opened her eyes. Simon hadn’t moved.

      He lay on his back, one arm over his head, and she realized that he had fallen into a deep, drunken stupor.

      Amelia stared, shaken to the core of her being. A long moment passed. Then she found a throw and covered him with it.